[Some other time does promise another time, the idea that this could and should happen again, and far be it from Astarion to argue the point further. Maybe "some other time", and Winter really will have him begging for some kind of release; and Astarion, as much as he'd rather not in literally almost any other circumstance, would happily oblige him.
But yes, the future is the future. What a sight Winter is now, his hair cascading over a shoulder as he lowers his mouth to Astarion's aching cock. When he feels that first brush of his lips, a plush kiss against his head, even that small amount of contact is enough for him to exhale hotly; he squirims a little more, one hand coming up to grip the side of the pillow his head rests upon, and then the man takes him in properly, and a low groan of anticipation rumbles from his chest.
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But yes, the future is the future. What a sight Winter is now, his hair cascading over a shoulder as he lowers his mouth to Astarion's aching cock. When he feels that first brush of his lips, a plush kiss against his head, even that small amount of contact is enough for him to exhale hotly; he squirims a little more, one hand coming up to grip the side of the pillow his head rests upon, and then the man takes him in properly, and a low groan of anticipation rumbles from his chest.
Oh, he feels so good already.]
Yes. Just like that, love.